Rising Storm
by pikapika01
Summary: A young girl learns that the most horrific acts in the nation of Panem are done outside the Arena. In order to fix the present, Iris Gordon must learn from the wrongs of the past. She must find the courage within herself to take a stand against the injustice of the Capitol and the corruptness of her own district.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Thank you for choosing my fanfic to read! Please see the Author's Note after the chapter has ended for more details about this fanfic, but, for now, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, any of its characters, or places. Because, if I did, Gale and Katniss would get together. Just saying.

"Most of us can recognize the end from a mile away, but the beginning always slips up on us, lulling us into thinking what we're living through is yet another moment, in yet another day."

― Steve Yarbrough

The cool breeze ruffles my curly dark brown hair as I sit on the shores of a small secluded beach. The waves seem lethargic as they slowly recede back into the ocean, leaving behind small bits of shells and seaweed. The seagulls circle overhead, calling out to each other in their warbled high-pitched language. The sun's brilliant rays warm me from head to toe as I stretch my limbs and let out a yawn. It is amazing how comforting nature can be to a troubled soul. I sigh, enjoying the serenity of it all. My Zen mood, however, is short-lived as my horse whinnies impatiently, kicking up the sand at his hooves.

"Be patient, Bolt." I chide, mostly because the sand is being kicked towards me. He seems to get the point, because he immediately stops kicking and whining. However, he sneaks in a snort, letting me know that he still doesn't want to be here and is mad that I woke him up at an ungodly hour of 6:00 AM for a ride along the shore.

Today is Reaping Day, and even though I'm not among the elite few candidates that Mayor Cantoral handpicked to be District 4's tributes for the 73rd Annual Hunger Games, my friend is. Asher is brave and strong, Mayor Cantoral would've been an idiot to rule him out as a possible tribute, but I wish that he wasn't chosen. When he told me that the Mayor chose him as a candidate, all I could feel was fear and sheer dread fill the pit of my stomach. But, all Asher wants is to be a victor like his father. It's what he's been working for his entire life. Who am I to dampen his spirits?

I feel a slight nudge from behind. I turn around to see Bolt nudging me again with his white-tipped snout. He whinnies and tries again to get me to my feet.

"Alright, we're going home!" I say. I get up from the shore and dust some sand off of my pants. I mount my tall black Shire horse with a huff and get him to a slow canter back towards home.

The ride back towards the district is quiet and peaceful. No one's really in the streets, except some dedicated vendors, determined to sell the last bit of their wares. I steer Bolt towards an old woman dozing in a ragged straw chair behind the counter of her stall. Her sleeping form is almost hidden from view behind the colorful canopy of her booth. I dismount in front of the shabby structure and call out to the woman. "Mrs. Rodriguez!" No answer. Maybe I should say it louder? "Mrs. Rodriguez!" Man, this lady's one heavy sleeper! "MRS. RODRIGUEZ!"

The old woman jolts awake with a panicked look in her eyes. "What's wrong _hija_? Is the District under attack? ¡_Dios mío_!"

"No, Mrs. Rodriguez." I say. "I'm just here to get some breakfast and do a bit of shopping."

Mrs. Rodriguez shakes her head. "Shopping should be the least of your worries. I hear that friend of yours might be a tribute."

I nod and let my gaze drop to the cobblestone street. "I try not to think about it."

She sighs. "_Echa mano a la ligera; soltar a la ligera. Este es uno de los grandes secretos de la felicidad en el amor. Mi abuela_ would always say that to me, when I was feeling down about a boy."

"What does it mean?"

She smiles at me. "Take hold lightly; let go lightly. This is one of the great secrets of felicity in love."

I let out a giggle. "We're not in love, Mrs. Rodriguez. We're just friends. Always have and always will."

"_El amor es la amistad prendida fuego por el fuego._ Love is friendship set on fire."

I laugh. "We really aren't in love."

"Have it your way." She sighs.

I pick up a couple of things from her store and put them into Bolt's saddlebag. After I say my goodbyes, Bolt and I head to the bakery to pick up some pastries for breakfast. I decide to buy a couple of loaves as well, to save mom the trouble of coming here later on during the week.

Bolt and I arrive home just in time to see Asher saunter his way up our front porch. He's dressed in a very fancy crimson silk dress shirt with a black vest, tie, and pants. He turns around with a smirk adorning his flawless features and runs a hand through his wild blonde hair.

"You're late, milady!" He calls. "Reaping starts in thirty minutes!"

"It can't be!" I respond, "The baker told me I had an hour!" I steer Bolt towards the porch and dismount in front of Asher.

He frowns at me. "You do know that you live thirty minutes away from the bakery, right?"

"Dammit!" I curse as I rush Bolt to his stable. I tie the poor horse up and throw a handful of feed into his bucket. "Sorry boy, I'll give you more when I come back." I sprint back towards the house and blow past Asher. "Give me ten minutes, okay?" I yank open the door and dash up the steps to my room. After throwing some random dress from my closet onto the bed, I tear off the clothes I've been wearing and change into it. I dive to the floor and grab the first pair of shoes I find from under my bed. Lucky for me, they're my favorite black flats and match perfectly with my dress. I run out of my room, shoes in hand, and jump down the stairs two steps at a time. I meet Asher at the door and slip on my shoes. "Are we making good time?"

"Yeah." He replies. "By the way, you look great."

"Thanks." I say. "Now let's get going."

Asher nods and we both run towards the Plaza as fast as we can. We make it there and register just in time. Before we separate, I grab his hand. "Whatever happens today, happens alright?"

He smiles. "Right."

I let go of his hand and wave goodbye. He waves back, and we both turn around and walk towards our respective sections. If he gets picked today, as his friend I should congratulate him and wish him well. As his friend, I should smile and tell him that he'll dominate the competition and bring pride to District 4. But, I can't. I can't wish him well. I can't smile and know that he'll dominate the competition because I don't and neither does he. If he gets picked, there will always be a feeling in the back of my head that the next time I'll see him face to face will be at his funeral. If he gets picked, instead of wishing him well and bidding him a brief goodbye before he heads off to the Capitol, we'll be saying our final farewells. I find my spot next to another one of my friends, Clair, and smile at her. She smiles back and grabs my hand.

She gives my hand a gentle squeeze and whispers, "He'll be okay."

Clair is my only female friend and confident concerning Asher. The small brunette just has a certain aura about her that soothes and calms me down no matter what the situation. I sigh and whisper back, "I hope so."

The anthem of Panem blares from the numerous loud speakers surrounding the stage in front of us as our district's escort, Aurelius, struts forward. Aurelius is young, I'm guessing, and wears the same thing every Reaping; an extravagant navy blue pinstripe suit accented with gold anchor-shaped buttons.

"Welcome all," his voice booms over the loudspeaker, "to District 4's reaping for the 73rd annual Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor!" He grins at the crowd, probably trying to turn up his charm for the wealthy Capitol ladies back at home.

"As you know," he continues, "one extremely lucky boy and girl will be chosen to receive the privilege- no, the honor of representing District 4 in the Hunger Games!"

_Yeah, what an honor._

"Now, without further ado, let us begin!"

My attention is brought to the two giant glass balls erected on each side of the stage; one filled with all the names of every male child in District 4 and the other was filled with all the names of every female child in District 4-mine included. I watch with baited breath as Aurelius dips his slender fingers into the ball on the right. "Ladies first." He purrs.

A silence washes over the crowd as Aurelius swirls his hand through the glass ball. Finally, after a minute of waiting, he pulls out a single slip. He ever so slowly unravels the slip and pauses before reading the name. "Theresa Gayle!" He calls out. The sea of fourteen year old girls parts to reveal a thin brunette with freckles. She walks with her head held high and without fear.

Once she's on the stage, Aurelius puts his arm around her and calls out again, "Any volunteers willing to take little Theresa's place?"

"I volunteer!" A voice answers from in back of me. I turn around to get a good look at the female tribute for this year. She's tall and has long wavy black hair with piercing blue eyes. She struts forward, a smile plastered on her face.

"And who might you be?" Aurelius smirks down at her, eyes a bit lidded. There's a rumor- and this is just a rumor- that Aurelius has a bit of fun with the female tributes before the Games. Personally, I don't believe that it's a bit true.

"My name is Lillian Gray."

"Are there any objections to Lillian Gray's volunteer?" Silence greeted Aurelius's statement. "Very well. Congratulations, Lillian, for being this year's female tribute! Let's give her a round of applause!" Everyone frowns and gives Lillian a couple of half-hearted claps.

Lillian climbs the steps to mount the stage and gives Theresa a brief handshake before joining Aurelius at his side. "Now for the boys!" Aurelius announces.

He walks toward the other glass ball and does the same procedure he did for the girls. 'This is it', I keep thinking. 'What happens, happens', becomes my mantra as I repeat the statement without pausing inside my head. Screw it! 'Please not Asher' I think. 'Anyone but him!'

I close my eyes and look down. "Nathan Riordan" He calls. My eyes open and I watch as a stocky guy walks forward with his head held high and pushes a couple of the boys that were near him out of his way. He jumps up on stage and glares at the crowd.

Aurelius laughs nervously before shaking Nathan's hand.  
"Any volunteers?"

Silence.

"Alrighty then! Let's give a round of applause for our tributes!" I could feel anger roll off the crowd like waves as everyone reluctantly gives Lillian and Nathan another round of half-hearted claps. Aurelius, sensing the mood and in fear of a riot, immediately concludes the ceremony. "Happy Hunger Games everyone! May the odds be ever in your favor!"

Five Peacekeepers march toward the stage and usher the tributes and Aurelius toward a sleek black car that will take them to the train station, where the tributes will say their final farewells. I watch Nathan and Lillian walk toward the car and step in, the confident expressions on their faces never wavering.

AN: So this is the first chapter of my new Hunger Games fanfic. I really wanted Suzanne Collins to let us explore more of the world of Panem (through Katniss' eyes of course), because I wanted to know more about all the different districts. So, I thought to myself why not create a character to explore it! This story will be filled with a mixture of official facts and not-so-official ones about District 4 and all the other events and districts this story will contain. Anywho, thanks for reading the first chapter of my story and feel free to leave a review!

PS Some District 4 citizens might speak in Spanish for some parts of the story. I got the idea from a theory presented in a Hunger Games book I was reading and it really made sense!


	2. Chapter 2: A Night to Remember (Pt 1)

**Many thanks to my reviewer and followers of this story!**

* * *

**Chapter 2: A Night to Remember (Pt. 1)**

_"An insincere and evil friend is more to be feared than a wild beast; a wild beast may wound your body, but an evil friend will wound your mind."_

_ -Buddha_

* * *

The camera crew filming the District 4 reaping packs up their things and starts to head towards the train station. Once out of view, the whole Plaza erupts into chatter. Most topics of discussion concern the party that's happening after sunset. The elite citizens of the district throw this huge bash on the beach to wish the tributes luck and in celebration of another fishing season passed. I usually don't attend the party, but this year my mom is forcing me. I don't know why, but it probably has to do with something about not being young forever…

"I wonder how Asher is taking this." Clair says. "I bet he's heartbroken."

I nod, a frown adorning my face. "Yeah, probably." Truthfully, I was elated that Asher wasn't picked. Unlike Clair, who was under the delusion that Asher could defeat a pack of District 2 tributes single-handedly, I knew that if Asher was picked he wouldn't get out alive. He'd be one of the top tributes, yes, but not a victor.

"Why don't you go over there and comfort him, Iris?"

I do a double-take. She wants me to do what now?

I laugh nervously. "I wouldn't know what to say."

She smiles at me, one of those rare smiles that fill you with all the courage and confidence you need to take on anything. "You'll be fine."

I nod and start to make my way toward the fifteen year old boys section where he was. As I took my first couple of steps into the aisle that separates us, a force knocks me to the ground. "Ouch!" I hiss. I glare at the person who bumped into me. He is a boy around my age with black hair and blue eyes, an unusual combination of features in my district. Before I can get a word in, however, he mumbles his apologies and walks off.

"You alright, Iris?" I look up and see Clair's smiling face. She offers her hand out to me and helps me up. She sighs. "Poor Caspian," she says, "probably a bit distraught over his sister volunteering."

I dust myself off. "Well, that would explain his resemblance to Lillian."

She nods. "Did you know that they're twins?"

"No, I didn't," I say, "I've never really talked or interacted with either of them."

She laughs. "Well, Caspian doesn't really talk anyways," a smile plays on her lips as she continues, "that's one of the many things that makes him a favorite of the girls in our class."

Now, it's my turn to laugh. "Is that so?" I ask.

Clair smiles and leads me towards Asher. "Well, that, and the fact he's so _mysterious!_" We both laugh and continue our way towards Asher.

We finally find Asher standing next to a rowdy group of boys. He's staring off into the distance and doesn't notice us until I tap him on the shoulder.

"What will my father say to me?" He whispers.

I glance at Clair for guidance, but she just gives me a pointed look that says _'you know what to do'_.

I sigh and put a hand on Asher's shoulder. "You're the second best in your age group at the Training Center," I say, "I think your dad will still be very proud of your accomplishments."

He shakes his head and shrugs off my hand. "Nobody remembers second place." He looks me in the eyes and says. "You wouldn't understand."

Before I could respond, he storms off into the crowd.

I know that Asher's dad is tough on him, I've witnessed his strictness firsthand, but I can't help but feel that his dad's criticism pales in comparison to his own.

"Just don't do anything stupid, Asher," I mutter, "Please, don't do anything stupid."

The beach roars with the sound of blaring music and raucous laughter. The lights from the festive paper lanterns illuminate the whole area, making it seem brighter than any lighthouse light could ever hope to. A towering pyramid of wine glasses is the centerpiece of the party and already has a throng of adults surrounding it. They really went all out this year, probably because they really have a lot of confidence in this year's tributes.

"Iris, there you are!"

I turn around to see Claire with her boyfriend, Edward. She smiles at me. "Like the party so far?"

"Yeah, looks good." I say.

"Well look who's here!"

I cringe at the high-pitched squeal masquerading itself as a voice. The owner of said "voice" is none other than the worst person to ever walk this Earth, Anita Babcock. Tall, blonde, and ruthless the she-devil herself stands there smirking down at me with her minions flanking her on both sides. Me and her never saw eye to eye and probably never will. The only person that makes interacting with her inevitable is Asher. Unfortunately, she is his cousin.

"What do you want?" I growl at her.

She laughs. "Oh, nothing, I was just wandering what made the bear come out of its cave."

"Leave her alone, Anita!" Claire says. "She's never done anything to you!"

"Claire, please," I whisper, "I can handle this myself."

"You sure about that? Seems like you need all the help you can get." Her minions cackle behind her like the mindless vultures they are.

"Oh, why don't you go eat a Roly-poly like you did in the goddamn third grade!" I yell.

She stumbles back. One of her goons catches her before she completely buckles to the floor. Anita picks herself up and glares at me. "You little bitch." She hisses.

Shit.

She marches towards me, trying to prevent her venom from seeping out. Saving it all for me, I suppose. Just as she reaches me, a voice calls out to her, "Anita, is that you?"

She turns around and swipes that mad cow look off her face. "Odysseus!" She coos in a sugary sweet tone that makes me want to vomit.

Odysseus stands atop a sand dune smirking down at Anita and me, looking as every bit as majestic and handsome as his namesake. He saunters down the dune with ease and walks toward us. "I thought I heard your voice." He says, flashing her a brilliant grin. His eyes flit towards me for a second before returning to Anita. "Who's your friend?" He asks, the grin never leaving his face.

They say that Odysseus is almost as charming as Finnick Odair himself, but I disagree. In this moment, I find Odysseus way more stunning. His bright green eyes glint devilishly in the lantern light and bore into my amber ones. "My name is Iris," I finally say, "Iris Gordon."

He extends his right hand towards me and introduces himself, "I'm Odysseus Black."

I smile and shake his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Odysseus."

He chuckles and continues to grin. "Oh, no, the pleasure is all mine."

He turns around and bounds up the sand dune with the same easy grace that he had coming down. He pauses at the top and angles his head back towards me. "See you around, Iris." He says and continues his trek down the dune.

Anita flashes me a nasty glare before following Odysseus over the sandbank. I stand there completely dumbfounded over what just occurred. Although a part of me was squealing at the fact that Odysseus Black was flirting with me, another part was a bit intrigued over his curious behavior. It seems to me that he had another reason for asking about me and crashing Anita and I's little spat. I mean, what are the odds that right as Anita is about to blow her top, he shows up? It is too much of a coincidence.

"Wow, I didn't expect Odysseus to show up." Edward mutters, "He never shows up at these parties."

"You're so lucky, Iris!" Claire exclaims, "You got to meet Odysseus Black, the hottest guy at the Training Center!"

"Yeah," Edward says, "but that's not why he's so popular in the District. He's freaking lethal. I'm surprised he's not a tribute this year."

I run a hand through my dark brown curls. "Probably saving him for the Quell." I respond. "They always save the best for the Quell."

All this tribute and Reaping talk jogs my memory of someone else. Guilt flashes over me as I realize that instead of being concerned about my best friend's wellbeing, I've been gushing over Odysseus Black.

"You haven't seen Asher around lately, have you, Clair?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No, not since the Reaping."

I frown. I should go look for him. "I'll be leaving then," I say, "See you two tomorrow."

"Wait!" Clair exclaims, "You just got here. Why don't you stay a bit longer?"

I smile. "You know me, these sort of things aren't my style."

She nods and steps towards me. She gazes at me, and her usually bright eyes look a bit sad. "Please, don't go looking for him, Iris," she whispers, "let him come to you when he's ready."

I assure her that I won't do anything like that, but I can tell that she doesn't believe me. I sigh and bid my farewells once more before leaving the well-lit beach for the dark district streets. Although I had planned to embark on an epic search for my friend, I decide to follow Clair's advice and let him come to me. So, I begin the long journey back towards home with the fat, swollen moon guiding my path.

I am welcomed by a dark and empty house. It seems both my parents are still enjoying themselves at the party. I change out of my Reaping clothes (I don't have many nice clothes, so I decided to wear the same outfit to the party as well) and into something more practical. Once I'm done, I grab a flashlight from the closet and head out to Bolt's stable.

When I'm about fifty feet away from my horse, I hear footsteps. I flick the switch on the flashlight and light streams forth from the small red rod. I shift it left and right to locate the source of the noise. Within a couple of seconds, I see a blonde boy walking towards me.

"Is that you, Asher?" I call out.

A loud guffaw answers my question. "Why so scared, Iris," he responds, "I always thought you were the bravest and strongest fifteen year-old in District 4?"

Asher's laugh unsettles me. He never laughed like that before, even if I told the funniest story I knew. I try my best to mask my unease. "Well, I can't be strong and brave all the time."

"My father doesn't think so." He says. "My father thinks you'd be the best female tribute District 4's had in years if you applied yourself."

I hear the slosh of liquid as Asher walks towards me. I can see the faint glint of a bottle. The pungent odor of alcohol radiates from him as he moves closer. Asher takes a swig of the liquid and wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his crimson dress shirt, now heavily soiled.

"Where'd you get the bottle, Asher," I fix my glare at him and say, "Tell me."

He shivers. "How scary!"

"I'm serious, Asher." I growl.

He ignores me and takes another swig. "Do you know what it feels like to be constantly compared to someone?" He asks. "Do you know, Iris, what it feels like to be constantly reminded of your inadequacies?"

I shake my head. I don't like where this is going.

He laughs, but this time it has an edge to it. "Of course not!" He continues. "Why would Ms. Perfect feel like that?"

"I'm far from perfect, Asher." I say. "You know that!"

"LIAR!" he yells. I hear glass shatter. Must've dropped the bottle. "YOU'RE A DIRTY FREAKING LIAR!"

I flinch at the sound of his yelling. I've never heard Asher yell, even if he was angry. I inch myself closer toward the stable to put a bit more distance between us. "If I was any good at that type of thing, I'd be at the Training Center not at school."

"Please," he scoffs, "we both know that you flunk the tests on purpose."

"That's not-!"

"I work my ass off just to get noticed by them, while you just flunk it like it's some joke!" He yells.

"Why should I risk my life for a couple of coins and fifteen minutes of fame?" I blurt out. "It seems like only something a suicidal idiot would want to do!"

Judging by the look on his face, which is starting to turn the color of a lobster, that was the wrong thing to say. He tackles me to the ground, and within seconds, this has gone from a heated argument to a wrestling match. Lucky for me, the hand-to-hand combat portion of the mandatory monthly assessments the Training Center scouts have us complete is always something I've excelled at. However, Asher has undergone the Center's strict training regimen for almost a year. Despite my natural athletic prowess, the odds aren't exactly in my favor.

Asher and I constantly exchange positions in our grappling match. I'm on top for only a second until he yanks at my hair. I rake what little nails I have across his face and kick him in the stomach. He takes an inaccurate swipe at my nose that doesn't even graze it, and I make sure my fist makes contact with his eye. We're a flurry of limbs, movement, and blood. Asher grabs my neck and shoves me hard against the wall of Bolt's stable. The loud thud spooks the horse into a mad fright. Bolt's terrified cries pierce our ears and causes Asher to loosen his grip on my neck. I can hear his hooves scraping against the hard dirt floor and his body banging against the walls.

"What the hell is going on back here?" A man's voice calls out.

I can see the faint glow of a lantern in the distance, and pray that it's my dad or someone that'll help me. Asher's gaze shifts from the lantern to me. Afraid of getting caught and this whole thing jeopardizing his place at the Training Center, he releases my neck and flees the scene before the man could get within a hundred yards of us.

The man reaches me a minute after Asher completely leaves my view. I look up at the stars and thank whatever God that decided to answer my prayers tonight, as my father's strong arms lift my battered body from the ground. I make eye contact with Bolt and notice his calm demeanor and steady gaze locked onto me. He blinks twice at me then starts to eat his dinner. I remember something as my father sets me down on the weathered faded blue sofa in the living room: Bolt never gets spooked by loud noises, not even thunder and lightning could faze him.

I chuckle. "That crazy horse," I mutter.


End file.
